sometimes good, sometimes shit.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 7, Episode 14
Kam and Yassy stood beneath the towering archway of Ohio Stadium, its weathered brick facade looming above them like an ancient colosseum. Kam fidgeted with his phone, angling it just right to capture both of them and the iconic "Horseshoe" in the background.
"Smile, babe," Kam said through gritted teeth, his own grin plastered across his face.
Yassy rolled her eyes but managed a passable smirk. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, but posed anyway, throwing up a peace sign.
Click. The photo was taken, and within seconds, it was uploaded to both their Instagram accounts with the caption: "coming to a city near you?"
As they walked away from the stadium, Yassy shook her head. "I can't believe we're actually doing this. Who the fuck is falling for this?”
Kam shrugged, his eyes scanning the campus around them. "I just do what the man tells me to do, he knows better than me. I’m paying him for something, right?”
They spent the next few hours wandering around Columbus, hitting all the spots a real recruit might visit. They posed in front of the Brutus Buckeye statue, snapped pictures in front of the athletic complex, and even managed to get a shot of Kam trying on an Ohio State jersey in the team shop.
With each photo and post, Yassy's annoyance grew. She understood the plan - to light a fire under Michigan's recruitment efforts by making it look like Ohio State was closing in - but she had bigger issues on her mind. Every deceitful tactic a reminder of what Kam was really capable of, masquerading as something he was not.
She was pretty, athletic with legs for days and a backside befitting of a college track athlete . Even Yassy found her attractive, even said as much to Kam. But, really, his teammate’s girlfriend? Was nothing sacred to him?
She couldn’t stop her mind from wondering, the long trip to Columbus providing plenty of opportunity. When did it start? When did it end? Did it ever end? Was she good in bed? Was she better? Did her own shortcomings with intimacy lead to Kam looking elsewhere? Was it the long distance? Was it the bit of weight she had gained after the miscarriage? Did he even notice? Does he even see her anymore?
As they sat in a busy campus coffee shop, surrounded by students buried in textbooks and laptops, Yassy stirred her latte absently. "Do you really think this will work?" she asked, looking for anything to occupy her mind.
Kam looked up from his phone, where he was busy responding to the flood of comments their posts were generating. "I don’t see why not," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "I think if they think someone else is willing to bite the bullet, they might as well.”
Yassy nodded, her gaze drifting to the window, watching students walk to and from class. For a moment, she envied their freedom. "I just don’t know how some people can just lie like that," she murmured, more to herself than to Kam.
“As long as they fall for it, right?” Kam laughed, not knowing how deep those words cut.
As night fell over Columbus, Kam and Yassy found themselves in the hotel restaurant, a dimly lit space with dark wood paneling and soft jazz playing in the background. It was the type of restaurant that Yassy never dined in growing up with the local Red Lobster being the place for celebration. Now, she felt guilty for the lifestyle that Kam was affording her and what she had learned to accept in exchange for it.
Kam pushed a piece of steak around his plate, his mind already on tomorrow's agenda. "So, I was thinking we hit up the academic buildings in the morning," he said, breaking the quiet. "Maybe snap a few pics in front of the library or something before our flight."
Yassy nodded absently, her fork twirling endless loops in her pasta. "Sure, whatever," she replied, her voice flat.
Kam frowned, sensing her disinterest. He was about to press further when his phone began to vibrate aggressively against the table, the screen lighting up with an unknown number. He glanced at it, then back at Yassy, before letting it go to voicemail.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Yassy asked, one eyebrow raised.
Kam shook his head. "Nah, probably just a telemarketer or something."
But the phone buzzed again, insistent. And again. By the fourth ring, Kam's curiosity got the better of him. "Sorry," he muttered, standing up. "I should probably see what this is about."
Was it her? Were there others? She might have met some of them at the games, cheering each time he touched the ball.
He stepped away from the table, weaving between other diners until he reached a quiet corner near the bar. With a deep breath, he answered. "Hello?"
"Is this Kam?" The voice on the other end was young, maybe early twenties, with a hint of an accent Kam couldn't quite place.
"Yeah, who's this?"
There was a pause, a moment of hesitation. "I’m Ali’s nephew. You remember Ali, don’t you?"
Kam felt his stomach drop, his free hand gripping the edge of the bar for support. He glanced back at Yassy, who was watching him with concern from their table. "How did you get this number?" he asked, his voice low and tight.
"Because we got some business to attend to, nigga.”
…
Kam returned to the table, his face ashen and his hands trembling slightly. He slid back into his seat, avoiding Yassy's questioning gaze. The ambient chatter of the restaurant seemed to fade away, replaced by a dull roar in his ears.
"Who was that?" Yassy asked, her voice laced with concern and a hint of suspicion.
Kam cleared his throat, forcing a weak smile. "Oh, just... just a wrong number. No big deal."
Yassy's eyes narrowed. She set down her fork with a soft clink against the china plate. "Kam, don't lie to me. I saw your face. What's going on?"
He sighed, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. "Look, Yassy, it's better if you don't know, okay? Just trust me on this one."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and oppressive. Yassy's expression hardened, her jaw clenching as she pushed her chair back from the table. The legs scraped against the polished hardwood floor, drawing curious glances from nearby diners.
"Trust you?" Her voice was low at first, but quickly rose in volume. "How am I supposed to trust you when you keep shutting me out? When you're always hiding things?"
Kam glanced around nervously, acutely aware of the attention they were drawing. "Yassy, please, I’m telling you, just drop it. Okay?"
But Yassy was beyond caring about their surroundings. Days and weeks of pent-up frustration and doubt came pouring out. "I'm not going to be one of those football wives, Kam. I won't just smile and nod and pretend everything's fine when it's not. You can't buy my obedience or get me to just fucking look the other way.”
Her words cut through the restaurant's hushed atmosphere like a knife. Other patrons were openly staring now, some whispering behind raised menus. A waiter hovered uncertainly nearby, unsure whether to intervene.
Kam reached out, trying to take her hand. "Yassy, please, let's just go back to the room and talk about this."
She jerked her hand away, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt. "No, Kam. I'm done talking. I'm done pretending. I'm done with all of it."
With that, she grabbed her purse and stood up, her chair toppling backward with a loud crash. The sound echoed through the now-silent restaurant. Yassy stormed towards the exit, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
Kam sat there, stunned, as the restaurant door slammed behind her. The other diners quickly averted their eyes, an uncomfortable murmur rising as conversations slowly resumed. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the carefully constructed facade of his life was crumbling around him.
The waiter approached cautiously. "Sir? Is everything alright? Would you like the check?"
“Nigga, you for real right now?”
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
nothing to see here 
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Good for Yassy
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 7, Episode 15
Kam's eyes scanned the familiar brick buildings and winding paths lined with towering oaks. It was strange being back here, the roles now reversed. Just years ago, he'd been the wide-eyed recruit, dreaming of making this place his home. Now, they were courting him, hoping to lure him back with promises of glory and a chance to leave his mark.
But Kam's mind was elsewhere, his thoughts a tangled mess of worry and anticipation. He pulled out his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, checking for a message from Yassy. Still nothing. The screen remained stubbornly blank, no explanation for her silence, no reassurance that everything was okay. He sighed, shoving the device back into his pocket, trying to push away the gnawing anxiety in his gut.
As he walked across the quad, following the eager young assistant coach who was rattling off statistics and accolades, Kam's thoughts drifted to the impending meeting with Ali's nephew. He didn’t say much, given that they were on the phone but it was enough to let it be known that the meeting was of the upmost important, far more important than this farce of a visit.
The tour continued, a blur of state-of-the-art facilities and passionate pitches from coaches and players alike. Kam nodded and smiled at all the right moments, but his heart wasn't in it. He had no intentions of coming here, not after what they did to him.
…
“We seen how that ended up last time,” Tamika sucked her teeth, rolling her eyes at Kyrie who hung his head in shame.
He slumped into the couch, hoping to disappear from the room. The back and forth bickering filled the small living room, but he felt disconnected from it all, his mind still reeling from his visit with Boog earlier that day.
Uncle Ray, Darius' father, voice rang louder than all the others. "That boy's out there acting like nothing happened, talking about choosing schools like he's some kind of golden child. Meanwhile, our Boog's rotting in a cell, my Darius in the fucking ground."
Tamika, Boog’s sister, chimed in, her voice sharp with indignation. "Ain’t nobody saying we let him walk, we just got to be smart this time."
"The shit started on the streets so we gots to keep it there," Ray growled. "It’s too late for all that lawyer talk, Mika."
"No!" Aunt Lena, his wife, interjected, her eyes wide with fear. "That'll only make things worse for Boog. We can't risk him getting more time."
Uncle Ray held up his hands, silencing the room. "They already let the man walk, what the fuck is more private investigators gonna do for us? Except put us more in debt? We already got a bunch of lawyer fees and the motherfucker ain’t even been to trial!”
Kyrie sunk further into the couch with each passing moment, wishing it could all go away.
…
Kam followed the assistant coach into the gleaming football complex, his footsteps echoing off polished floors and pristine walls adorned with larger-than-life photos of the school’s gridiron heroes.
As they approached the conference room, Kam's phone vibrated in his pocket. His heart leapt, hoping it was finally word from Yassy, but it was just another text from Mark reminding him to "play nice" with the coaching staff. He suppressed a bitter chuckle. If they only knew.
The doors swung open to reveal a long table surrounded by eager faces. At the head sat Bill O'Brien, the man he never got to meet, his piercing gaze fixed on Kam. The man's reputation preceded him – a no-nonsense coach with NFL pedigree who ran a pro style offense that would benefit Kam’s playing style. In another life, Kam might have been thrilled at the prospect of playing for him.
"Kam! Welcome back!," O'Brien boomed, rising to shake his hand. "How's the visit been so far?"
Kam plastered on his most convincing smile. "It's been great, Coach. Really impressive facilities."
The meeting began in earnest, a whirlwind of game film analysis, offensive philosophy discussions, and impassioned speeches about the program's bright future. Kam nodded along, asking the right questions and making the appropriate sounds of interest. But his mind kept drifting – to Yassy's silence, to the weight of the meeting that awaited him later.
As the offensive coordinator launched into a detailed breakdown of their running schemes, Kam's gaze wandered to the window.
The meeting stretched on, the enthusiasm of the coaching staff never wavering. But as it drew to a close, Kam could see the realization dawning in O'Brien's eyes. The coach's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his questions becoming more pointed.
When the other coaches filed out, O'Brien held up a hand, gesturing for Kam to stay behind.
"So," O'Brien said, leaning back in his chair. "This is a big fuck you to me, right?”
Kam met the coach's gaze, weighing his words carefully. "What do you mean, Coach?"
O'Brien's lips quirked into a humorless smile. "Come on, son. I've been in this game a long time. I can tell when a recruit's heart isn't in it." He paused, studying Kam's face. "I do remember you, you know?”
"I’m just weighing my options,” Kam kept up the facade.
“This is something Tom would have done. All the greats, they have that little bit of piss and vinegar that fuels them,” O’Brien told him in earnest, “So I respect what you did, and I can’t lie, you weren’t a priority back then.”
The words pierced Kam but also served as a shooting mechanism, healing old wounds.
“You are one now and you made that happen,” O’Brien shook his hand, “I know what an NFL player looks like and you know that, I know you do. You’re an NFL player, I have no doubt about that but you come here, buy into this program, do the right things, you can be a lot more than that.”
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
BC could be a good fit tho 
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 7, Episode 16
Kam shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot as he waited in the dimly lit alley behind the diner. The smell of grease and stale cigarettes hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of trash from the nearby dumpsters. A flickering neon sign cast an eerie blue glow over the cracked pavement, illuminating the graffiti-covered walls.
His heart pounded as a figure emerged from the shadows - a tall, lean man with sharp, calculating eyes. The street-hardened young man sized Kam up with a quick glance before extending his hand.
"You Kam?" Jabril's voice was low and gravelly.
Kam nodded, shaking Jabril's hand. "Yeah, that's me."
Jabril leaned in close, speaking in hushed tones. "I got some news about your boy. Word is, he just got moved to a new unit. One where we liable to get things moving.”
"For the right price," Jabril continued, his eyes glinting in the dim light, "That problem goes away. Make it look like it ain't got nothing to do with you.”
The alley seemed to spin around Kam as the weight of Jabril's words sank in. The news was clear and direct, as was the opportunity. Kam had traveled back to Lexington expecting for Ali to be asking for more money on his books, maybe the odd favor. Not this.
Boog was the only witness placing a gun in Kam’s hand and identifying Kam as one of the shooters. With Boog gone, their already faltering case would come crashing down.
Kam's mind raced, torn between self-preservation and the last shreds of his conscience. He looked at Jabril, whose face remained impassive, waiting for an answer.
"I... I don't know," Kam stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They don’t even have a case for real.”
Jabril shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Don’t convince me, nigga, I don’t give a fuck either way. He’s liable to get moved any day and once he do, ain’t no telling when another opportunity like this going to come.”
…
Kam hesitated for a moment before knocking on her door, contemplating just leaving the box on the ground and scurrying off. There was a fine line between romantic and stalking, especially with his calls and texts going unanswered for days. The sound seemed to hang in the air, and for a long moment, there was no response. Just as he was about to turn away, he heard movement inside.
The door opened, revealing Yassy in a faded t-shirt, her hair tied up just how he liked them. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed slightly.
"Kam? What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and annoyance.
Kam shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how unexpected his visit was. "I... I just wanted to see you," he said, his voice soft and uncertain.
Yassy sighed, stepping back to let him in. The apartment was dimly lit, the TV playing quietly in the background. It was clear she hadn't been expecting company.
"You didn’t really give a nigga a choice," Kam said, taking in the scene. He could see the flicker of embarrassment in Yassy's eyes, the way she self-consciously tugged at her shirt, “I can leave if you want.”
"It's fine," she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. "I just... wasn't expecting anyone. It's Friday night, and I'm just..." she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at her loungewear and the empty takeout containers on the coffee table.
Kam could sense her discomfort, the unspoken wish that she could have appeared more put-together, maybe even out with friends or on a date. Something to make him jealous, to show him she was doing fine without him.
"I brought you something," Kam said quickly, holding out the box. "It's not much, just... I thought you might like it."
Yassy took the bag, curiosity overcoming her initial annoyance. As she pulled out the contents - soft pajamas, a pamper kit filled with face masks and bath bombs, and an assortment of Fenty beauty products - her expression softened.
"Thank you," she said, her voice quiet. "That was sweet."
The tension in the room began to dissipate as Yassy examined each item, a small smile playing on her lips. Kam watched her, feeling a warmth spread through his chest, momentarily pushing away the darkness that had been consuming him.
Yassy looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and lingering uncertainty. She ran her fingers over the soft fabric of the pajamas, a gesture that seemed to soften her demeanor further.
"Kam, I..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. The silence stretched between them, unsure of how to break the news.
Finally, Yassy took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For storming off in Ohio, for leaving you there. It wasn't fair."
Kam felt a surge of relief wash over him, but he remained silent, giving her space to continue.
"I was just... I don't know. Everything felt so intense, so overwhelming," Yassy continued, her eyes darting around the room before settling back on Kam. "I guess I panicked."
As she spoke, Yassy's mind flashed to the moment she had heard Ashley’s voice on that recording. The hurt, the anger, the betrayal - it all came rushing back. For a split second, she considered confronting him about it, laying all the cards on the table. But something held her back - fear, perhaps, or a desire to maintain this fragile peace between them.
She thought better of it, not to spare Kam but to spare herself and how he viewed her. She wasn’t going anywhere, she had came to that realization long before those officers played that recording. She had been there for him when he was a nobody at a nowhere college program in Muncie, Indiana of all places. For the sake of their relationship, she had opened a portion of herself she thought was forever buried, getting over her own personal trauma to provide him the intimacy that he required. The thought of him — the polished and successful version of Kam — ending up in some other girl’s embrace and adorning her with the lifestyle that she had earned — one that was more likely to look like Amy than herself — repulsed her more than the images of him in bed with Ashley or whoever else as she went through the hell that was the miscarriage.
It was bad enough that she felt like a pushover for staying, she didn’t need him to feel that way about her too.
Instead, she forced a small smile. "I was just moody that trip, you know? Sometimes I get in my head, and everything feels like too much."
Kam nodded, relief evident in his eyes. He reached out, hesitantly at first, then more confidently, taking Yassy's hand in his. The familiar warmth of his touch sent a shiver through her.
"I get it," he said softly. "I know you’re going to ride for me and I’m going to ride for you so all of this…it’s really just bullshit we have to work through, I have to work through.”
"You want to stay for a bit?" Yassy asked, surprising herself with the invitation.
“A nigga could use that right now,” Kam groaned as he laid his head into her lap, tracing the patterns on Yassy's ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The weight of his recent conversation with Jabril pressed down on him, mixing with the comforting warmth of Yassy's presence. The soft hum of the TV in the background faded away as he focused on the gentle rhythm of Yassy's breathing.
"I don't know what to do next," Kam finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "Mark's still doing…whatever the fuck he’s doing. Cole is telling me that we’re good but we’re still paying so are we really? Feels like a nigga standing on the edge of a cliff, and whatever I do next, I’m either going to fly or fucking fall.”
Yassy's fingers gently combed through his hair, a soothing gesture that made Kam's eyelids flutter. The scent of her perfume - a mix of vanilla and something floral - enveloped him, momentarily pushing away the acrid memory of the alley behind the diner.
"Whatever you decide," Yassy said softly, her voice filled with conviction, "I'm with you. All the way."
Kam turned his head, looking up into Yassy's eyes.
"I know," he told her, his voice thick with emotion.
Yassy nodded, her hand moving to cup his cheek. "I’m serious, Kam. Ready to start a life with you, have your babies, build something real."
